


Country Magic #12 - One of Them Girls

by olivejuice28



Series: Country Magic [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Country Music, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: Based off the song "One of Them Girls" by Lee Brice. Hopelessly in love with his secret crush, Draco finally takes a chance.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Country Magic [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518281
Comments: 15
Kudos: 75





	Country Magic #12 - One of Them Girls

**Country Magic #12**

**One of Them Girls**

“Earth to Draco.”

A dark-skinned hand waved vigorously in front of his face, abruptly snapping him from his internal musings and reacquainting him with his surroundings. Blaise was smirking as he resumed stabbing his salad with obvious contempt. Regardless of how many times they ate in the Ministry cafeteria, Draco’s long-time friend couldn’t seem to overcome his snobbish disdain for the less-than-gourmet offerings that made up the menu.

“If you’re going to complain about the abysmal state of your lunch,” Draco began with a theatrical huff and roll of his eyes, but the other wizard cut him off.

“Nope. Just thought you should stop staring, in case someone noticed and thought you were having a mental fit or something,” he snorted at the scowl that appeared on his lunchmate’s face as he spoke.

“I wasn’t staring at anything!”

“Mmhmm, sure,” Blaise smirked again as he stuck a forkful of greens in his mouth, causing his smug expression to immediately shift to one of utter disgust. “I mean, honestly, would it kill them to learn how to make a decent vinaigrette? This is offensive,” he speared a shiny red cherry tomato and poked it towards Draco. “I’m offended on behalf of the produce that’s been assaulted with what’s basically watery, over-salted oil.”

Now it was Draco’s turn to snort, entirely used to his cohort’s regular tirades against the lack of culinary inspiration found within the hallowed halls of Britain’s magical headquarters. In all honesty, he agreed that the meals and snacks served there could use a bit of improvement, but it wasn’t like they suffered through it every single day. In fact, more often than not, their work kept them out of the office, which meant lunch was taken wherever and whenever time and location allowed.

But on a day like today, Draco couldn’t find an ounce of fault with his sub-par entrée as it afforded him a perfect view of the witch of his dreams. As Blaise ranted about the availability of spices and the correct crouton-to-lettuce ratio, the pale blonde’s eyes drifted back to their previous point of interest.

She was still there, about halfway across the spacious lunchroom, chatting animatedly with a coworker over what appeared to be a sandwich and perhaps a small bowl of soup. She was seated so that her profile was presented to him, and he let his gaze travel leisurely over her lithe frame, from the top of her chestnut colored curls, to the tips of her kitten-heeled pumps.

She was too far away for him to see the details of her face clearly, but he knew every feature like the back of his own hand; the trio of freckles an inch below her left eye, the dimple in her right cheek that appeared whenever she smiled, the flecks of gold in her dark brown eyes, the delicate Cupid’s bow of her upper lip. He’d memorized every facet of her visage a long time ago, but never tired of imagining it or, even better, seeing it in person. She’d worn her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her ringlets cascading down her back where they stopped just below her shoulder blades. It had gotten longer since their school days and he often wondered what it would feel like to sink his fingers into those glossy tresses.

“You’re doing it again, mate,” a droll tone jolted him out of his reverie as a soggy piece of cucumber hit him smack between the eyes.

“Oi!” He exclaimed, jumping slightly in his seat and glaring at Blaise who was openly laughing now. He grabbed his napkin and wiped off the residue from the vegetable-turned-projectile. “What are you, eleven?”

“I know exactly what I am,” Blaise snarked, “Though you seem to be in complete denial as to your state of being.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Draco muttered, turning his attention back to his plate which held something that could either be a serving of shepherd’s pie, or a badly formed omelette. He honestly couldn’t remember what he’d ordered as they went through the line, since his attention had been drawn, as always, to the presence of one particular witch who happened to be just three people ahead of him in the queue.

“Oh, come off it. You’re not nearly as subtle as you like to think. Add to that the fact that I’ve known about your obsession since Third Year,” Blaise raised his hands in a gesture that clearly meant he needn’t say more. His pronouncement was met with owlish blinking and a dumbfounded stare.

When he could finally formulate words, Draco countered with no small amount of indignant sputtering, “Obsession? I’m not... Where do you... Clearly you’re just...” accompanied by the tossing of his napkin onto the table with affronted flair.

“Ah, yes, clearly,” Blaise mocked, a brow arched in challenge as his coworker continued to struggle expressing himself in a discernible way. He decided to press his luck while his normally eloquent friend was floundering so spectacularly.

“You know you could just go talk to her. Engage her in a friendly conversation like a normal person, instead of ogling her from afar like some lecher.”

That got Draco’s attention and he sat bolt upright, spine stiff, brows furrowed, lips pressed in a tight line as he pinned his lunchtime companion with a menacing glare.

“I am _not_ a lecher. I am _not_ ogling her. And I am _not_ obsessed with Granger,” his voice remained low but the tone brooked no argument, and would have sent most folks running for the nearest exit, but Blaise knew his former housemate far too well to be worried about any sort of real repercussions for his teasing.

The handsome Italian leaned back leisurely in his chair and grinned smugly, “Yet you knew exactly to whom I was referring.”

Draco’s brows shot up into his fringe, having unknowingly given Blaise the very confirmation he’d been vehemently denying. He scowled, more at himself for being caught off guard, and inwardly cursed his friend for being such a bloody, textbook Slytherin. He knew he wasn’t going to be let off the hook now and heaved a dramatic sigh as he met the dark eyes glittering with mirth across the table.

“So, are you willing to admit it now?”

“Admit what?” he wasn’t going to give in quite so easily.

“Admit that you are one hundred percent gone over the Gryffindor Princess. You fancy her. You have a crush on her. You ardently and wholeheartedly,” but Blaise’s theatrical litany was cut off by Draco vehemently shushing him.

“I don’t want the whole Ministry to know, you sodding git!” he whisper-yelled, his slate grey eyes darting around to make sure no one had overheard anything. He then realized that had just had, in fact, admitted to his infatuation; and that caused Blaise to look as if Christmas had arrived early.

“Ah, finally making some progress here, I see,” he steepled his fingers together and arched a brow at his reluctant schoolmate. “Now that you’ve outwardly professed your admiration, what are you going to do about it?”

“I haven’t professed anything, you annoying wanker, and I’m not going to _do_ anything at all!” Draco’s exasperation was meeting new heights. He scrubbed a hand over his face and fervently wished the tiled floor beneath him would simply open up and swallow him whole. He’d been having such a nice day - the weather was perfect, all his current files had been completed and turned in, his boss had complimented him in front of the team, and he’d seen his favorite witch twice that morning before this latest encounter in the cafeteria. Seeing her always brightened even the worst days, and today it had only served to increase his already good mood.

As he ruminated over that fact, his gaze drifted once again to the petite witch. Merlin, she was beautiful. Her smile could outshine the sun, and her laugh was better than any musical composition. She was so incredibly smart, so magically talented, so absolutely amazing in every way. And she didn’t seem to have any idea how wonderful she was, what a gift her existence was to the world.

“She’s perfect,” he sighed and was met with Blaise choking on a mouthful of disappointing salad. He hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud, and his entire face flamed with mortification as his friend struggled to breathe and get himself under control.

Wiping his streaming eyes, Blaise pinned him with a watery but fierce glare, “Alright, that’s enough. You’ve been mooning about over her for far too long. You’re going to march over there and ask her to go for drinks after work.”

Draco froze, aghast at the prospect and started shaking his head, but found a finger pointing uncomfortably close to his nose.

“Oh yes you are. I’d prefer not to have my life ended by a wrongly swallowed bit of questionable food, so you need to stop spewing that sort of nonsense and get on with it.” He waved a hand emphatically in the direction of Hermione’s table, where Draco noticed her coworker was getting ready to leave. As the other witch disappeared, the spunky brunette plucked an abandoned issue of the _Prophet_ from a nearby table and began to read, clearly in no rush to go anywhere.

To his horror, while he remained stubbornly glued to his seat, another wizard walked up to her, a confident grin on his face, his posture one of self-assured importance. Though it was impossible to hear their conversation from where he sat, Draco was quite certain the smarmy prat was working his way up to asking her out. His pewter gaze narrowed as he watched the exchange with almost palpable intensity. After barely a minute, the wizard’s posture shifted to one of uncertainty, and his expression seemed tight, though Hermione continued to look utterly at ease, a smile still curving her lips, she had leaned back in her seat, distancing herself a bit further. The young man spoke again and Hermione responded with a shake of her head and a slight shrug. He nodded once, spun on his heel and stalked out of the cafeteria.

Draco looked at Blaise, who had turned in his seat to watch the whole thing, and arched a brow at the pale blonde in challenge. He looked back at Hermione, who was back to contentedly reading the paper while sipping her tea. Meeting his housemate’s gaze once more, he pursed his lips, inhaled a long, deep breath, nodded once, and stood up. A look of shock flitted across the Italian wizard’s face, but it was quickly replaced by one of gleeful mirth. He gave a thumbs up and Draco nodded again before striding towards the topic of their conversation. He knew he might be certifiably daft for attempting this on the heels of the other bloke’s failure, but he also was positive it was just a matter of time before some lucky son-of-a-troll swept her off her feet. He heard the way the other wizards on his floor talked about her, even though she’d never given any of them the time of day, and couldn’t bear the thought of her saying ‘yes’ to one of them before he’d even taken a single chance.

His steps faltered as he drew closer, unsure what he would say to her once he reached her side. Still several paces away, she turned her head and noticed his approach. He might have imagined it, but her eyes seemed to travel from his dragonhide loafers up to his face with unhurried appreciation, and when she met his stare head-on, her lips curved in a welcoming smile. He thought he might pass out from how quickly his heart rate accelerated at the sight. Closing the last bit of distance, he slid fluidly into the seat across from her and arranged his features into what he hoped was a careless smirk.

“Granger,” he drawled, though it was a bit raspier than he’d intended.

“Malfoy,” her smile widened and her eyes sparkled and he found it difficult to swallow... or breathe... or formulate a coherent thought.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been face-to-face with her like this, or if he’d ever been just a small table’s width away. She leaned forward and wove her slender fingers together and it was all he could do not to reach across and cover her hands with his own. In an effort to keep from touching her, he folded his arms on the table and leaned forward as well, bringing their faces several inches closer together. He lost his train of thought entirely as his brain cataloged the way the light glinted off her curls, how long her dark eyelashes were, how utterly kissable her lips looked. He would have remained oblivious to the world around him if she hadn’t tilted her head and cocked a brow in question, causing him to realize he’d been staring, and rather blatantly.

_Not a lecher, indeed._

He offered her a lopsided grin and a shake of his head before speaking, praying to all the Founders that he wasn’t about to make a complete fool of himself.

“I wanted to see if you’d like to grab drinks after work?”

Chocolate eyes flew wide and her jaw dropped slightly as she registered his request. She seemed truly surprised by his invitation and took a second or two to wrap her formidable brain around it. When she began nibbling her lower lip he felt his stomach turn to lead and wondered if he could just say he’d been joking before dashing off to crawl in a hole. His forehead was starting to manifest unhelpful beads of sweat when she finally responded.

“I’d love to, I really would, but I can’t,” she said, and she truly did look sorry about it, but he assumed that was just her way of letting him down easy. His heart joined his too-heavy innards while he did his best to look as if it wasn’t a big deal. He shifted in his seat, ready to bolt when she reached across the table and placed her hand on his arm.

“I have somewhere I need to be shortly after I leave here, but if you wanted to come with me, maybe we could go out when I’m done?”

_Wait, she was inviting him to join her?_

“I should warn you, it’s a little... unusual,” she started to explain, clearly unaware that he’d do just about anything in order to spend time with her. Before she could continue, he made his intentions known.

“I’d be honored to accompany you anywhere you want to go, Granger,” he said with affected cordiality, his tone clearly indicating his true pleasure, and was rewarded with a lovely blush coloring her cheeks. _Could she really, actually want to be around him beyond the walls of their employment?_ He felt like he might have levitated off his chair for a second.

“Well, I hope you still feel that way once we get there,” she chuckled wryly before gazing at him with such obvious joy it made his heart skip and all he could do was nod in acquiescence. “Meet me at the fountain at closing?”

He nodded again and they both moved to stand. He noticed her peering at him through her lashes and tilted his head to better read her expression and found it to be bashful, which he’d never expected from the confident, shining star she always was.

“I’ll see you later, Draco,” she said softly and scurried off before he could blink. He remained rooted to the spot, staring after her like a gormless loon, which was exactly how Blaise found him several beats later.

“Alright there, mate?” He clapped Draco on the shoulder, making him jump and shake away the fog that had settled in his brain. Quizzical dark eyes scanned the taller wizard assessing his current state and assuming he was catatonic with elation. “Ah, so you’ve got a date. Good on you. It’s about time.” He continued to ramble encouraging sentiments as he steered his still awestruck friend through the lunchroom and back towards the lifts so they could return to their desks and the work that awaited.

OoOoO

Draco had no idea what he accomplished for the rest of the day, his mind singularly focused on his upcoming date with the witch of his dreams.

_Was it a date?_

He wasn’t entirely sure. He’d asked her for drinks, which could be considered the most minimal, least involved version of a date, but she’d upped the ante when she invited him to accompany her to... wherever they were going. She never specified beyond saying it was “unusual,” and he didn’t even think to ask for more information. Salazar knew he’d follow her back into the Forbidden Forest during a Centaur family reunion if it meant being by her side, though it obviously hadn’t always been that way.

During their earliest Hogwarts days, he’d found her irritating and annoying and had been more than happy to insult her as often as possible, in the most offensive ways he could think of. He’d loathed how she always beat him in lessons, and couldn’t stand how loyal she was to the two buffoons she considered her best friends. It wasn’t until Third Year, when she smacked him for his comment about the Gamekeeper, that he saw her in a completely different light. No one had ever stood up to him like that, or had dared to treat him in such a disrespectful way. At first, he’d been furious, offended, and filled with righteous indignation, his low opinion of her only solidified by her vile behavior.

But then something changed. He couldn’t pinpoint a specific time, or place, or event that flipped the switch in his brain, but all of a sudden, he was looking for her in the halls, watching her as she studied in the library, and wondering what she was chatting with her friends about during meals. One day, during Charms, he found himself nodding along with the perfectly succinct answer she was giving about the spell Professor Flitwick was teaching them, and he almost fell off his chair. That single acknowledgment of her impressive intellect opened the floodgates in his mind to all manner of other observations, and for the next two years he kept a running list of all the things he admired about her (solely in his head, of course).

Sixth Year was a living nightmare, and he couldn’t spare a stray thought for anything, not his lessons, not his so-called friends, not even her. Though he often dreamt of her; her brilliant smile, her warm eyes, her kind and compassionate nature. It was the only bit of peace he was awarded for months on end, and he woke from those dreams clinging to the feeling of lightness and joy they offered until they faded from his consciousness as he was forced to attempt his impossible task. What should have been his Seventh Year was even worse. The dreams had stopped, mostly because he hardly slept, but it seemed every aspect of his life was engulfed in endless, dark, mind-numbing terror. Whenever her name was spoken in his presence, his mind would race with innumerable scenarios, each one as awful as the last, and his heart would crumble a little bit more as he considered a world without her.

When it was all over, his pardon granted and his father locked up forever, he’d felt free for the first time in years, perhaps even for the first time in his life. He’d never let himself think about what it would be like to see her again after everything that had transpired, but the first day he spotted her across the Ministry atrium, it all came flooding back with the force of a tidal wave. She was like a glittering diamond surrounded by dull grains of sand and he was completely overwhelmed. No longer shackled by the purist traditions of his family, no longer carrying the weight of his unwanted connection with a psychotic madman, he let himself fall head over heels and welcomed the giddy, heart-stopping nonsense that accompanied his crush. He never told anyone, not even Blaise until that afternoon, but took every chance he could to speak with her, meet her gaze, stand near her, or watch her from afar. And now, almost two years since the war had ended and they’d put the past behind them, his wish was coming true.

He tried to look cool and unruffled as he stood beside the reconstructed fountain a few minutes after the evening bell had sounded. He stopped himself from pacing three separate times, and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting with his hair or his clothes. Mere seconds had passed, but it felt like an eternity and his confidence faltered as he wondered if perhaps she’d changed her mind. He’d taken to scowling at the gently rippling water in the marble pool before him when he registered the presence of another at his side. Glancing sideways, he found Hermione focused on the sparkling water as well, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Did you know Harry once dumped an entire bag of coins in there?”

“No,” Draco shook his head, “When was that?”

“After his trial with the Wizengamot before our Fifth Year. He was so relieved to have the charges dropped, he tossed the whole lot in.”

The tall blonde huffed a laugh and shook his head; he could acknowledge the amicable and generous nature of his former nemesis nowadays without animosity, and considered the bespectacled hero a solid acquaintance, if not an actual friend, as their paths crossed quite regularly. He made a mental note to ask Potter about the whole thing next time he had a chance, and turned his full attention back to the lovely witch now gazing up at him with nervous anticipation etched across her pretty face.

“Shall we go?” he inclined his head towards the exit and she nodded, though she caught her lower lip between her teeth again.

“You’re sure you want to come with me?” she asked after they’d taken a few steps.

“Positive,” he assured her, “Though I don’t actually know where you’re taking me.” The teasing lilt to his voice seemed to lessen her anxiety and she offered a grin that took his breath away.

“Well, you won’t have long to wait to find out,” she responded as they passed through the doors and stepped out onto the deserted side street many employees used as an entrance every day. Wrapping her hand around his arm, she tugged gently in the direction she wished to go, and he happily obliged.

They chatted lightly about the business of their day, and the sudden turn in the weather that week, and before he knew it, she brought them to a stop less than a block from where they’d started. He looked at the nondescript building in front of him; a two-story brownstone with wide front steps and a potted fern sitting beside the door. A very small sign hung above the knocker and he barely had time to register the words “ _Elf Assistance_ ” before crossing the threshold behind her.

The foyer was small but brightly lit, and he followed her lead, hanging his cloak on a wall hook next to hers. He was just about to ask what this place was, when he heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Luna Lovegood gliding towards them with an airy smile on her face.

“Hi, Hermione,” she embraced her friend, “And hello, Draco,” she moved as if to hug him as well, but then seemed to think he might not welcome that, and settled instead for patting him on the shoulder. “They’ve all just arrived and are attempting to fix themselves some tea,” she shrugged and rolled her eyes, “You know how they are.”

Without further explanation, she turned and drifted off in the direction she’d come from, leaving Draco with more questions than answers, and Hermione trying to stifle a giggle.

“So, before we go in there,” she gestured toward the room Luna had disappeared into, “I suppose I should tell you that I help lead a House Elf support group.”

“A… a what?” Draco wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

“A support group. For House Elves who are struggling with the idea of being free, or getting paid, or having choices. It’s rather a big adjustment for many of them, and we’ve been trying to help them sort through their worries and feelings of guilt.”

“Oh… well… that’s… um…” he wasn’t entirely sure what that was, and was caught between a desire to bust out laughing and wanting to ask Hermione if she’d gone round the bend.

“I told you it was unusual,” she trilled as she stepped away from him, cocking her head in invitation for him to follow, a challenge sparkling in her wide, brown eyes. He flashed a lopsided grin and nodded, indicating that he was still willing to participate, though the sight that met his eyes when he rounded the doorway brought him up short.

An ample sized sitting room, complete with ornate fireplace, floor-to-ceiling windows, and plush carpet was bathed in the warm light of several wall sconces and a sizable chandelier. A circle of roughly ten cushioned chairs took up most of the floor space, and a low table had been laid with a full tea service, and several platters of tiny sandwiches, biscuits, and hand pies. Clustered around the table were a half dozen House Elves, all wearing odd assortments of clothing, and all of them trying to serve each other. One pair in particular seemed to be getting into a rather heated debate as the newest arrivals to the party drew near.

“I can fix my own cuppa, Tinker!” A stout, male elf (if the velvet green vest, plaid shorts, and argyle socks were anything to go by) insisted, trying to wrench a cup and saucer out of the surprisingly strong grip of a smaller, older, female elf (dressed in a bright pink cardigan and a pair of yellow bloomers).

“I know you can, Ollie! I’s just being nice!” she argued, but loosened her hold on the china pieces and spun around to find the pair of humans behind her. “Oh!” her large eyes widened even further as she registered exactly who was there, “Oh! Miss Hermione! I’s so sorry, I didn’t know you was there!”

“No worries at all, Tinker,” Hermione crouched down so as to be eye-level with the diminutive creature, “How are you doing this week?”

The Elf’s ears drooped slightly as her gaze drifted down to the floor, “I is having better days, Miss. I is having trouble telling my mas… my boss… what I need.”

Draco was quite certain she had been about to say “master,” and suddenly understood why this whole support group idea might be a valid service. He knew how devoted the Elves at the Manor had been to his family, no matter how badly they had been treated. His mother had always been polite, but cold and distant. He had often coerced Dobby and the others into doing things he knew would get them into trouble, and never really thought about what the consequences might have been. His father had been a downright brute, barking orders, demanding punishments, never satisfied with their efforts. It made him feel more than a little ashamed to consider how calloused he’d been about the whole thing.

“Well, that’s completely understandable, and that’s something we’re going to talk about this evening,” Hermione said comfortingly and Tinker looked marginally uplifted by it.

After fixing their own tea and grabbing a biscuit or two, Hermione, Draco, and Luna all sat down in chairs in the circle, where the Elves had already settled in. Content to be a silent observer, Draco listened intently as the two witches engaged the little beings in friendly small-talk before moving on to a review of what they had obviously discussed during previous meetings. The Elves had been asked to specifically work on being more forthcoming with their employers about things they needed, or ways they wanted to change or improve their daily tasks. Since the mark of an obedient House Elf had previously been unquestioning loyalty, this was a bit of a stumbling block for those gathered together at the moment.

It was abundantly clear that the Elves all deeply admired and trusted both of the young women, and though Draco was impressed with the way the fairy-like blonde interacted with them, he could hardly take his eyes off Hermione. She spent a solid fifteen minutes with every Elf, checking in on the progress they were making, offering suggestions or advice for difficulties they encountered, and simply ensuring they felt cared for and encouraged. She exuded warmth and compassion and treated each of them with genuine respect and acceptance, and if one didn’t know better, they might think she was catching up with a long-time and well-known part of her own social circle, the way she engaged them all.

She was hope and light and everything good in the world personified, and Draco felt his heart swell to the point it might burst. He knew in that moment, as he watched her squat down and admire the shiny purple shoes one Elf had worn that night, that he would move mountains for her. He didn’t care how sappy or lovestruck it sounded, he would hand her the moon on a silver platter if she asked for it, though he knew she never would. She never seemed to ask anything for herself, never put her own needs or ambitions before others; she was truly the most selfless person he’d ever met and he wondered if she’d ever feel even a fraction of the devotion and longing for him that he felt for her. His eyes started to prickle and a snitch-sized lump lodged in his throat as he contemplated the very real possibility that she might never return his affections. Now that he’d been granted this glimpse of her life outside the public eye, he didn’t think he could go back to only seeing her in the halls of the Ministry, or at a random social gathering they both happened to attend. He wanted more of her… all of her.

These thoughts were swirling in his brain as the session came to a close. He was helping Luna set the room back to rights while Hermione saw their guests to the door, when the ethereal witch caught him off guard.

“I was wondering when Hermione might bring you by,” she said lightly as she vanished the used napkins and floated the leftover treats towards the kitchen. “It was only a matter of time, obviously.”

“Obviously?” Draco echoed her pronouncement as a question, since he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Oh, yes, Hermione’s fancied you for ages. She just never thought you’d be interested. I told her she was being silly, of course. You’ve liked her since we were children.”

Draco could have been knocked over with a feather. He’d grown accustomed to the random things Luna said in recent years, since they often spent Friday nights at the Leaky with a group of mutual friends. But this? The idea that Hermione had feelings for him was something he’d not dared hope for yet, especially since their interactions up to that point had been barely more than passing greetings or polite small-talk. He turned wide, shocked eyes on Luna, who just shrugged and smiled at him as if she knew an important secret, before floating out of the room after the stack of dishes she was levitating with her wand.

Before he could even begin to internalize the verbal bomb that had just been dropped in his lap, Hermione reappeared and asked him if he was ready to go. They gathered their cloaks and stepped out onto a much darker and colder sidewalk than they’d started with, and Hermione rounded on him at once, her chocolate orbs glittering in the moonlight as she took in his expression.

“So, what’d you think?” she asked with an impish grin.

“Definitely not anything I could have expected,” he huffed a laugh, still trying to wrangle his euphoric thoughts and stampeding pulse into something calm and collected, “But I thought it was great. The Elves seem to really appreciate the help you’re offering. I never realized how difficult it must be for them to adjust to the new legislation.”

“It’s definitely been a process for the majority of them,” she agreed with a nod, but then her expression softened as her gaze remained fixed on him, “I’m glad you came with me.”

“Me too,” he replied in a low voice. She was standing mere inches away, her face turned up towards his, her eyes flickering between his slate grey ones and his mouth and before he could second guess himself, he leaned in and kissed her.

The world might have stopped spinning, might have left its orbit entirely, and all Draco knew was that everything in his life had led up to this moment. He slid his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, and cupped her face between them, angling his head to deepen the kiss. Hermione’s hands found the front of his cloak, which they clung to with a vice-like grip, and it was a good thing because the sigh she released almost turned him into a puddle. They remained there, snogging under a star-filled sky until a frigidly cold gust of wind whipped through the narrow alley and caused them both to shiver, though it might not have been entirely from the blast of freezing air. They pulled apart just enough to stare into one another’s eyes, cheeks pink, lips swollen, and hearts pounding as they considered what had just happened.

“So, about that drink I mentioned earlier,” he whispered, rubbing his nose against hers and earning himself a delightful giggle.

“I might need something to eat, too,” she mumbled against his lips, “Those biscuits didn’t count as dinner.”

“Dinner, dessert, a full course buffet, whatever you want,” he peppered her jaw with kisses and wrapped his arms around her waist, “Anything your heart desires.”

She carded her fingers through his hair and sighed, making him wonder if this was real, or if it was all just a fantastic dream. If it was, he didn’t want to ever wake up. She pressed her palm to his cheek and gently tilted his face so she could meet his gaze squarely once more.

“What if all my heart desires is you?”

His heart slammed into his ribs and his voice caught in his throat. _Was she serious? Did she really mean it?_ He stared intently into her gold-flecked eyes and found nothing but sincerity in their depths.

“Then I’m yours, too,” he rasped, diving in to capture her lips again, feeling as though the ground beneath him was tilting and yet basking in the sensation that he’d finally found solid footing after all this time. Their second kiss was softer, yet deeper. It was both a question and a promise, and left them breathless as they floated back down to Earth. He wound his arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side as they strolled off in search of food and drinks and whatever else the night might have in store.

**_“If you’re one of them girls, Well I’m one of them boys, Who’d trade his whole world, For one of them girls.” ~Lee Brice_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, the fluff and nonsense! I really, really like this song and would highly recommend a listen ;) This is by far the sappiest, most heart-eyed, puppy dog version of Draco I've ever written, but he's adorable and I love it. I also think Blaise is flippin' hilarious. I hope it brought a smile to your face on this random Thursday, and would love for you to check out the other pieces in my Country Magic series, and unrelated one-shots, as well. Knowing there's folks out there who share my little obsession with these fictional lovebirds makes me so very happy :) Thanks for reading!!


End file.
